Let Him Love
by AlmostAmber
Summary: Father Mulcahy meets and becomes attached to a young woman while she recovers in Post OP. But what happens when friendship begins to turn into something more?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not in any way own MASH or any of it's characters.

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"_It's too cold outside for angels to fly…."_

Snow drifted down to the dusty ground in giant flakes, blanketing the drab army camp in a brilliant covering of white. Not a sound could be heard throughout the entire camp, an unusual occurrence, especially in the wake of a war. For once, there wasn't a stream of wounded soldiers in need of medical assistance from the overly exhausted surgeons and nurses. In fact, the only patient in post op was a young man who had been rushed in for an emergency appendectomy, and he would be leaving for Seoul to the evac hospital by dawn. Oddly enough, everything seemed, well, okay for once. But everyone knew it was only a matter of time before the choppers would arrive once more, bringing in the wounded defenders of the United States. Nevertheless, the members of the 4077th MASH unit were tucked away in their tents, huddled under their blankets fast asleep. Well, all of them except one, that is.

Father John Francis Patrick Mulcahy stepped out of his tent, pulling his olive army issued jacket closer to his body in an attempt to block out the bitter cold. The snow crunched under his boots as he made his way around the camp, smiling slightly at the sound of soft snoring coming from the tents. "At least someone is getting some rest, albeit well deserved." He murmured quietly. The young priest turned his direction toward the mess tent in hopes of a warm cup of coffee and perhaps a good conversation on this frigidly cold night. Fortunately, the soft glow of a lantern could be seen from the mesh "window" of the tent, revealing Colonel Potter and Radar sitting at one of the tables, each having a steaming mug of what passed for coffee in their hands. Mulcahy quickened his pace, eager to get out of the cold, despite the fact that the tents offered little warmth from the chilling winds.

"Well, Hello Father. Awful late for you to be out of your bunk, isn't it?" Colonel Potter questioned, motioning for the priest to take a seat at the table.

Father Mulcahy poured himself a mug of the thick liquid, taking a sip slowly before sitting beside Radar. He attempted to turn the grimace on his lips into a smile, but at no avail. "The coffee is certainly strong tonight, isn't it? Though, perhaps I should say it's a blessing to have something warm to drink just the same. Especially when one cannot sleep."

"You, too, huh? Seems like we should all be getting some shut eye, while we still can. After all, it's been quiet for far too long...Knock on wood."

"No use knockin' on wood right now, Colonel…choppers coming in!" As the words escaped the young Corporal's lips, he leapt from the bench and rushed out the door, no doubt heading to the office to alert the others.

"I guess we'd be better prepare for the wounded, Padre. No telling what we'll see tonight." Colonel Potter stood from his seat and patted the priest's shoulder before disappearing out the door as well.

It wasn't until Father Mulcahy heard the voice of Radar announcing the incoming wounded over the intercom, that he rose from his seat and began heading toward his tent. As he gently tucked his Bible into his pocket, he silently prayed to the Lord above that no lives be taken that night. However, the priest knew his prayers may not be answered the way he had hoped.

"Dear Lord…please be with us this night." He muttered, stepping out of his tent to see the rush of nurses and doctors surrounding several wounded bodies. He could hear the moans of pain coming from the victims, see the blood seeping from their wounds. The sight absolutely sickened him.

"Father! You'd better get over here fast! We're losing him!" Hollered the voice of B.J Hunnicut from a few feet away.

Mulcahy closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath in an attempt to prepare himself for what he was about to do. As many times as he had given Last Rites, it would never become easy to him, in fact, it became so much more difficult each time. All he could do was silently pray for the Lord's mercy and guidance on what was sure to be a very long night.


	2. Chapter 2

The sun was just peeking over the tree tops when the weary medical staff of the 4077th MASH unit finally emerged from the operating room and into the cold air. After twelve long hours of surgeries, everyone was more than ready to crawl back into their cots and try to forget the horrible things they had just witnessed. Out of ten wounded soldiers, only four made it. The six young men that had lost their lives that had taken their final breaths before they even made it to the OR. All of them casualties to a war they shouldn't have to fight.

Hawkeye shook his head as he walked along side his bunk mate and best friend, B.J. Hunnicut. He opened his mouth to speak, but quickly closed it, finding he had no words. He was absolutely speechless. Sure, he had performed surgeries on soldiers, countless times, but that night had been particularly hard…on all of them.

"You okay, Hawke?" B.J. questioned as they reached their ten, or as they affectionately referred to it…the Swamp.

Hawkeye nodded, plopping down on his cot, not even bothering to remove his stained scrubs. "I'm okay, Beej, just…."

"Shaken up?"

"Yeah…That was, God, that was horrific. I don't think it's ever been this bad before."

B.J. nodded, taking a sip from his glass of 'Swamp Brew', wincing slighty as it went down his throat with a burn. "It was terrible, that's for sure. Can't imagine how their families feel right now, God be with them..."

"And poor Father Mulcahy. I've never seen him look so devastated. It's easy to forget that his job is just as difficult as ours." Hawkeye muttered, his mind replaying the faces of the six they lost that night…Six more victims of that God-forsaken war.

"Perhaps even more so, Hawke…" B.J. grew silent for a moment before he set his now empty glass on the side table and settled down into his cot. "G'night, Hawke."

"Night Beej…"

* * *

Across the camp in post op, the young priest went from bed to bed, checking on each of the four patients, all of which were sleeping as best as they could in their beds. All except one, that is. The patient at the far end of the room.

"Maybe you could help her, Father. She's been tossing and turning since her morphine wore off. She seems pretty troubled." Kellye spoke up, motioning toward the bed in question.

"She?" Mulcahy questioned, his eyes widening slightly. "Good lord, what on earth was a woman doing on the front lines in the first place?"

"Oh, she wasn't fighting, Father. None of them were. These patients came from another MASH unit just south of us. They fell under heavy shelling yesterday evening…I'm afraid these are the only survivors."

The priest nodded solemnly, recalling the six souls he had given Last Rites to only hours before. "I'll see what I can do, Kellye." He replied, forcing a smile before heading toward the cot in question. He tried not to let his smile falter as his eyes fell upon the heavily bandaged young woman. From what he could tell, she had suffered wounds to her abdomen and her left leg, which was casted to her thigh. He shook his head, feeling sympathy for the woman wash over him. No one deserved this.

He stood there for a few moments, lost in his thoughts, and failing to notice the young woman had awoken from her fitful slumber. It was only when he heard the soft sound of someone clearing their throat that he broke from his trance. He felt his cheeks heat up slightly, knowing good and well that they were turning pink in embarrassment of being caught. 'Oh…Hello there. I didn't mean to stare, I just...Well, I suppose I was lost in my thought.

The young woman studied him for a few moments before finally speaking up in a rather hoarse voice. " That's alright, Father…?"

"Mulcahy…Father Mulcahy is my name." The priest moved to take a seat in the chair that was placed beside her bed. "And your name, if you don't mind me asking?"

The woman smiled slightly, extending her right hand for him to shake. " Emerson," She replied quietly, "Emerson Martin.


	3. Chapter 3

"Emerson…" The priest repeated quietly, taking in the appearance of the young lieutenant nurse in front of him. "Oh, uh, n-nice to meet you, despite the rather unfortunate circumstances, I…"

"I'm not interested in a confession, Father, if that's what you're here for. I have no need to confess, nor do I need your forgiveness. The good Lord above knows my sins."

Father Mulcahy furrowed his brow, slightly taken aback by the young nurse's quick assumption. "Oh, I, uh, no…n-not at all. I had observed from your dog tag that you're not Catholic. No, I just, well…I suppose I thought you might like some company for the time being, perhaps a bit of cheering up."

Emerson scoffed quietly, turning her gaze to the ceiling above her. "Forgive me for my negativity, Father, but I'm not sure I can find much in this nightmare that is cheerful."

The priest only nodded, not really knowing what to say to her. He could tell her he understood her grief and pessimism, but did he really? After all, he had seen much death and sadness in the time he had been in Korea, but he hadn't really been through anything as traumatic as those who darkened the doors of the O.R. He studied Emerson's facial expression, noticing quite a bit of pain in her eyes, which he noted were a lovely shade of hazel and complimented her honey blonde hair nicely. He quickly shook his head, wondering where on earth that thought had come from.

"Attention all medical personnel! We interrupt your much needed sleep for a foxtrot in the triage! Wear your comfortable shoes, it's going to be a long night, folks!"

"Oh my…uh, you'll uh, have to excuse me, Lieutenant Martin. Duty calls…so to speak. Perhaps some rest would do you good, anyway, yes?"

Emerson seemed to snap from her thoughts, turning her attention back to the babbling priest at the mentioning of her name. "Yes, if I can get any rest, that is. You'd better run, Father…Best of luck." She replied quietly.

Mulcahy nodded his response as he bolted from his chair and rushed out the doors. Once again, he was met with the sight of incoming wounded. He barely had time to rake it all in before he was being called over to a body by Major Houlihan. When his eyes fell upon the wounded soldier, he couldn't help the gasp that escaped his lips. "Oh, my Lord." He murmured, covering his mouth in shock. The soldier was covered in his own blood. He was missing his left arm and his right one was so badly mangled it was barely recognizable. The priest could only shake his head.

"He must have breathed his last before he arrived here. There's no pulse…He's in your hands now, Father." Margaret gently patted the his shoulder before hurrying over to the next casualty.

Mulcahy knelt beside the soldier, startled at the age of this man…or boy, he should say. He had to have been barely out of high school, or perhaps even younger. Another soul taken from this earth far too quickly. He shook the thought from his mind as he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He sent a silent prayer toward heaven. He prayed that God would give him the strength to carry out the difficult task at hand.

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_**A/N: So, we've met the mystery woman, but she doesn't seem none to happy to be there, does she? Perhaps in time she'll warm up to the 4077th?**_

_**I'd like to thank ImaLateBloomer and Hippiechich2112 for their reviews on my story! I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter as well as the others to come! :)**_


	4. Chapter 4

_**A/N: I just wanted to clear something up with my OC. I named her before I realized that Charles' middle name is Emerson. I'm debating changing the name, please let me know your opinions. Thanks!**_

_**Also, I'd like to once again thank everyone who has reviewed my story! I really appreciate the support!**_

_**And, as always, I sadly do not own MASH or any of its characters, I only own Emerson Martin. Though if I did….*evil smile*. Anywho, on with the chapter, I hope you enjoy :)**_

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"Ooooh, well, would ya lookie here, Hawke! Dinner looks like an old soggy shoe!"

"An old soggy shoe? Oh no, see, an old soggy show sounds appetizing in comparison to this stuff!" Hawkeye replied as the two surgeons took their seats at the usual table where Radar, Father Mulcahy, Colonel Potter, and Charles were seated, all of them were picking at their food. "See, even our good priest won't eat this stuff! It'll kill ya, I say, kill ya!"

"Well, Hawkeye, I don't generally try to make a habit of complaining, but , maybe it won't be too bad of me to say that I'm quite glad that this, too, shall pass."

The remark brought a laugh from the rest of the table, even from Radar, who seemed to be enjoying the slop they tried to pretend was food. He was shoveling huge gobs of what was supposed to be mashed potatoes into his mouth.

"Radar, I swear, don't you listen? I meant what I said, that stuff will kill you! It's older than Winchester, and that's sayin' something." Hawkeye earned a glare from his fellow surgeon for his comment.

"Ahh, it ain't so bad, Captain. I can say I've had worse." The clerk spoke up before take another large bite.

B.J. shook his head, chuckling. "I'd hate to know where…" He took a sip of his coffee, the smile fading from his face. "It sure has been a long couple of days…I'm beat."

Colonel Potter nodded. "It sure has, Son. Hopefully we'll get a little break and some rest in the next couple of days." Though he spoke in reassurance of his staff, he knew he was feeding them false hope. They were in the middle of a raging war, there was no rest. Still, he knew they were overly tired, and all deserved a break.

"Oh, that's wishful thinking, Colonel, but I'm favor of it. But rest? What is this rest you speak of?"

"Well, you might know if you didn't spend every moment of your free time drinking and chasing skirts, Pierce. " Charles finally spoke up. He smirked at Hawkeye, knowing good and well that he was right.

"Hey, hey Winchester, I resent that! I chase skirts in the OR too!"

"And any chance he gets, really." B.J. laughed. "Old Hawke never misses a chance for a date."

Father Mulcahy shifted in his seat. He was feeling a tad uncomfortable with the conversation. "I shouldn't be listening to this."

"Oh, don't worry, Padre. These two knuckleheads were just shutting up, weren't you?" Colonel Potter sent a warning glare to the two.

"Oh no, that's alright Colonel. I thought I'd go back to my tent for a little R&R while all is still peaceful. Well, as peaceful as it can be, I suppose. I'll see you all later on, perhaps." Mulcahy smiled as he stood from the table. He took his tray outside and then headed toward the Chaplain's tent.

One he was inside, he quickly changed out of his dirty fatigues and black turtleneck and into his night clothes. He very carefully placed his crucifix on his small desk before grabbing his Bible and settling down into his bed. The young priest always found comfort in reading, and rereading his favorite passages of scripture, however, very little comfort came to him that night. He couldn't seem to shake the vision of the young soldier that lost his life from his mind, no matter how hard he tried. There was also Emerson, the young nurse he had visited earlier. Such sorrow he saw in her eyes, fear as well. He hated to see pain on a face should be smiling.

Mulcahy set his Bible down on his lap and allowed his train of thought to wander away from his original intent. He couldn't help but wonder, though, what it would be like to see a smile on Emerson's lovely face. A real smile, one that would reach her eyes and light her face with joy. Perhaps he would get to see that sight someday.

"You shouldn't be thinking about such things, Francis." He muttered to himself. "But, would it be so wrong to desire such a thing? The sight of joy on a person's face? Though, the person in question happens to be a woman…." He shook his head, attempting to get the thoughts from his mind as he turned to a passage in his Bible. "I just want to see her smile…"

The priest then forced all thoughts of Emerson from his mind and focused on his Bible. The Passage he had flipped to happened to be the Twenty- Third Psalm, a fitting passage for the times they were facing. Though, the words seemed awful hard to accept at times, even for a man of the cloth.

"_The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want…"_


	5. Chapter 5

**_A/N: Hey guys! Thanks again so much for the reviews! I didn't expect my story to get so much attention, to be honest! Your reviews mean a lot!_**

**_I forgot to do this in earlier chapters, but I got the title for the story from the song Big Parade by the Lumineers. I thought the song was rather fitting and I can't help but picture Father Mulcahy when I hear it. You should give it a listen! :)_**

**_Hope you enjoy the chapter! I should have more chapters up this weekend because….I'M SNOWED IN! :D So lots of writing and coffee and such, lol. Anyway, enjoy! :D_**

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Once again, the moon shone brightly on the camp of the 4077th MASH compound, and once again Father Mulcahy was wide awake. Despite the few hours of sleep he had obtained earlier, the clergyman was still quite exhausted. But honestly, was anyone in this MASH unit ever really rested? It certainly didn't seem like it. Of course, they were blessed for every moment of sleep they were given, no matter how short it may be. In this case, it had only been around three hours for the priest. It was now 11:45 pm, and silence had fallen over the camp yet again.

Francis lay awake in his cot, debating with himself whether he should get up or continue to lie there until he eventually fell asleep again. Though the latter was tempting, he had this odd to urge to get out of bed and go visit the patients in the post op ward, or, perhaps it was the desire to see the young nurse he had visited earlier. "I can't help but wonder if she's alright…" He thought aloud, "Suppose it wouldn't be a bad idea to visit, if only to offer an ear to listen, or even a prayer if she'd like. Yes, that's why I'm here anyway.."

Mulcahy knew the reasons he wanted to visit concerned more than just religious matters, but he was human, and there was no harm in befriending a person. Besides, at times, friendship could be the best medicine. Emerson certainly seemed to need a friend at the moment.

"That settles it, I'm going." He murmured, getting out of his cot and gathering a clean set of clothes. First, he would shower. After all, with everything that had occurred over the last day, he hadn't really had the time. It didn't take very long for the priest to shower and dress, in fact, he was already making his way toward post op within 15 minutes. All the while, he was hoping things would go a little better than they had before…If she was even awake.

* * *

Emerson sat on her cot, her back propped up with pillows so as to not put too much pressure on her wounded abdomen, which she found to be quite sore. She thanked the Lord above that the shrapnel wasn't very deep, though. The shrapnel could have killed her, and she was determined to return home when this war ended…Whenever that would be.

Emerson sighed softly as she stared down at the bound journal in her lap. She had her pen poised in her hand and ready to write, but it seemed that no words came to mind…Well, none that she wanted to send her mother, at least. Of course she could lie and tell her mother that everything was just fine and talks of peace were becoming more frequent with each passing day, but she couldn't do that. Her mother was worried enough about her as it was, if she learned Emerson was keeping something from her, she'd worry even more.

"I'll probably be shipped stateside soon, anyway..." She muttered, closing the journal quickly and nearly slamming it down on the side table. She heard the sound of her fellow wounded hushing her from their beds, but she couldn't find herself to care at that moment. After all, they hadn't been so courteous to her earlier when they were throwing lewd comments toward her. Of course, they were all men, but that wasn't an excuse for them. "But I digress….Chivalry is dead, it seems."

"I suppose I should defend the male population, but I must say I think I agree with you, Lieutenant Martin."

Emerson startled at the sound of a rather quiet voice. She looked up to see the Chaplain of the 4077th standing at the foot of her bed. She noted that the smile on his face was somewhat shy, but genuine all the same, which came as a bit of a shock to her. After all, she hadn't been the nicest she could be with him earlier, and she wasn't entirely sure she felt up to being cordial at that very moment, either. But she knew she needed to be polite.

"I'd say that's a bold statement, Father. Though I'm a bit surprised….most men wouldn't know chivalry if it bit them in the nose…."

The priest chuckled. "I must admit, you have a point. Though I think that perhaps it is unfair to assume the same of all men." He glanced at the chair beside Emerson's bed, wondering if he should sit, or if his company would even be welcome.

Emerson noticed his gaze shifting to the chair and instantly she felt rather guilty for her behavior the day before. Wounded or not, he was stuck in the same hell hole that she was, and it wouldn't do to have such a bad attitude with him. "Have a seat if you'd like, Father. "

Father Mulcahy's smile seemed to brighten as he took a seat beside her. "Oh, uh, h-how are you feeling , Lieutenant? You certainly seem a lot better than you did yesterday."

Emerson shrugged. "A bit better, I suppose…Father? Do you know how many survivors there were from my unit? I was told three others were here, but I don't recognize any of them. I was just..curious.'

Mulcahy's smile faded as he glanced down at his hands for a moment. The question she had asked would be difficult to answer, and he was sure it would devastate her. But nonetheless, the question must be answered. Keeping the truth from Emerson would only make it worse. Finally, he got the courage to turn his gaze back to the young woman before him. The sorrow he had seen in her eyes the day before was back, and for some reason that he didn't completely understand at the time, the sight absolutely broke his heart. "Lieutenant Martin…"

"Emerson…no more Lieutenant business, just call me Emerson…"

"Emerson," He corrected himself, the use of a woman's first name feeling foreign on his lips. "I'm afraid you are among the four survivors…I'm so very sorry, my child."

Emerson only nodded, though the young priest could see the tears welling up in her eyes. However, not a single tear fell. Instead, she clenched her jaw as she grabbed fistfuls of her sheets and making every attempt she could to remain strong before the unit chaplain. "Go…." She muttered.

"Emerson, I understand that these things can be difficult to…"

"I said go!" Emerson interrupted, the sorrow in her eyes flashing to anger, "Please leave me alone, Father."

Mulcahy stood from his chair with a nod as he headed toward the door. Just before leaving the ward, he turned toward the young nurse just as the tears had begun to trickle down her cheeks. He stood there for a moment, unable to look away. It was right then that he silently promised to himself that he would do what it took to see Emerson smile, absolutely anything….

"Good night, Emerson." He whispered quietly before slipping out the door and into the darkness, making his way to his tent.


	6. Chapter 6

_**A/N: I owe you all a huge apology. I know I promised more chapters last weekend, but strep decided to visit and stay a while :/ All my inspiration for the story went out the window while I was sick. But I am back! I really hope you enjoy this chapter! It gives a little background on our favorite priest.**_

_**I want to thank my readers for sticking with me! And Carylfan for beta reading!**_

_**And...as usual, I do not own MASH...I wish...Anyway, hope you enjoy! :D**_

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Francis Mulcahy didn't always want to be a priest. In fact, he could remember a time in his life when being a man of the cloth was the farthest thought from his mind. Now, Francis wasn't ever the type of young man that one would consider rowdy, he actually was quite the faithful member at the small Catholic church in his hometown. But faithful to the Lord as he was, thoughts of entering priesthood had never crossed his mind.

At the age of eighteen, right after graduating high school. The young man took a job working as a sales clerk at the local hardware store. In all honesty, Francis had no clue what direction his life was going in, and despite his parents' wishes, he had declined to fill out any applications to university. His plan for the moment was to just go with the flow, and at the moment, working seemed to be the best option. At least until he figured out what he wanted to do with his life.

It was the summer after his graduation that everything began to fall in place, or so he thought. And though he probably shouldn't, he could still remember the day _she _walked in. Her name was Lindsey Porter, and she was the daughter of a carpenter. She had been sent to the store for some nails and a can of wood finish. It was a simple order that oddly enough took over an hour fill. By the time Lindsey realized she had been there longer than her father expected, it was nearly time for Mulcahy to close up shop. It wasn't as though he minded, it had been a slow day at the and he was thankful for the company and the promise of hid new friend stopping by the next day.

Lindsey's visits to the shop became a regular occurrence. In fact, she rarely skipped a day, unless, of course, her father needed her help with his own business. With each visit, Francis and Lindsey's friendship grew. Soon, the daily visits to the shop turned to evenings at the movies, or walks in the park after dinner at their favorite diner….Friendship began growing into something more. By the time the summer came to an end, Francis had fallen in love with her. Unfortunately, his time with her was coming to an end, however. Lindsey's father had accepted a job in South Carolina and had given his family very little notice before their move. But Francis was determined to make their relationship work, though. He wasn't about to let the young woman he had grown to love slip through his fingers. So with a declaration of love, and a promise to write, Lindsey Porter took off to Charleston, neither of them knowing what the year had in store for them.

At first, the letters were frequent between the two. As many as six letters would find their way into each of their mailboxes weekly. Despite their distance, Francis and Lindsey seemed to be just as close as ever. Lindsey would write about her new house, which happened to be right on the beach. She wrote of her new friends and all the new things to do in Charleston, but she also wrote about how much she missed Francis. She very much looked forward to the day her new beau could come and visit her, though it was not clear when that day would come.

Francis liked to include his dreams and plans for the future in his letters. That is, his future with Lindsey…As his wife. The young man had plans to work until he saved enough money to move to Charleston and find a good enough job there to put down a nice down payment on a house for he and Lindsey. He had already purchased a diamond ring that he kept safely in his pocket at all times. He had never been more sure of anything in his life…Francis Mulcahy looked forward to the day he would ask Lindsey Porter to spend the rest of forever with him.

But fate seemed to have a different plan for the couple. With each month they spent apart, communication between them became less frequent. The almost daily letters diminished to weekly letters, and soon Mulcahy was lucky to receive a letter a month. Though he felt very discouraged, he knew there had to be a logical reason to the lack of correspondence. After all, Lindsey had taken up a part time job working as a secretary in an office. She had been quite busy and hadn't really had the time for writing. Francis could only think of one solution for this issue…he would pay his girl a surprise visit. It had been nearly seven months since her move, and honestly, the young man missed her terribly. But as wonderful of an idea he thought it was, Mulcahy couldn't have been more wrong. When he arrived in Charleston, he received everything but the warm welcome he expected from his girlfriend. Instead, he received numerous apologies and several looks of guilt accompanied by an explanation and the sight of a rather large diamond ring upon Lindsey's finger…A ring much more extravagant than the one carefully concealed in his pocket.

Of course, Lindsey hadn't _meant_ for any of this to happen, not at all. She hadn't meant to draw away from Francis, allowing herself to fall out of love with him. Nor had she meant to fall for her boss' son, a wealthy man and quite prominent in Charleston society. No, she hadn't meant for any of this to happen. She also didn't mean to place the blame on Francis, though it was seemed easier to her than taking the blame for breaking the heart of the man who loved her. Francis would never allow her to know just how deeply it hurt him, though. He wouldn't dare make an unnecessary scene. Instead, he wished his love and her fiancé the best of wishes on their new life together before returning to Philadelphia peacefully.

It wasn't long after his return that he decided to go into seminary and begin his studies to become a priest. Through everything he had endured, he had realized the Lord's calling on his life to His service. With his vows, he repressed every thought and emotion he felt toward Lindsey Porter… So why on earth was it that now, as he sat in his tent in the middle of the 4077th MASH unit, he thought of those same emotions he felt nearly 18 years ago? Though, the renewed emotions were not completely toward Lindsey, but toward the lovely nurse in Post op. He immediately tried to shake these thoughts from his mind. After all, he was treading on dangerous waters by even allowing the thoughts to cross his mind, and he knew it.

"Dear Lord," He whispered, his eyes turning to his crucifix. "I don't understand…Father, please help me understand.."


	7. Chapter 7

"Well, Lieutenant, it certainly looks like you're healing quite nicely, if I do say so myself. The wound on your stomach is closing, and I'm sure your leg is well on its way to recovery…How are you feeling?"

Emerson forced herself to smile at the balding man before her. She couldn't help but notice how out of place his rich Boston Brahmin accent seemed to sound in a place that was anything but proper. "I'm feeling better than I was, Major Winchester, though I must admit I'd feel even better if I could get out of this god forsaken bed."

The surgeon chuckled slightly as his eyes scanned the young woman's charts. "All in good time, Martin, all in good time. Do you seem to be experiencing any pain at the moment? Any at all?"

Emerson shook her head. "Not much sir, but I suppose I have the medicine to thank for that? I do feel a bit in my leg."

"Ah, yes, well that is to be expected. You're very fortunate you did not lose your leg, Lieutenant. There was a great deal of nerve damage from the incident. Yes, I'd say you're quite fortunate indeed…"

The young nurse nodded, glancing at the huge white cast that stretched to her thigh. It was so bulky and awkward…she would look forward to the day she could have it removed. "Major Winchester? I have a question…"

"Sure…" He replied, not moving his eyes from the chart.

"I was just wondering when I'll be sent home. Or to Tokyo…whichever comes first."

Charles looked up from the chart, a slight expression of sympathy passing over his features, however it was gone just as quickly as it appeared. "After the war, I expect, just like the rest of us."

Emerson's eyebrows knit in confusion. "Sir? I'm afraid I don't understand. I assumed I would be sent home soon…" How on earth could she stay in Korea? She couldn't even stand at the moment, how could she assist a surgeon? Her leg was completely casted and immobile! Emerson was completely useless as a nurse.

"Lieutenant, you assumed wrong. My commanding officer tells me you'll be staying with the 4077th for the time being, and I honestly have no objection to the decision. As I stated earlier, you're healing quite nicely, and if you'll give your leg a few more weeks, you will have regained complete use of it. I should think you'd be grateful to continue in your nursing career, Martin…"

"Grateful? Excuse me for being so bold, Major, but I don't see how anyone could be grateful to be in this living hell, for a lack of better words. If you think I want to stay here, then you're out of your mind!"

"Lieutenant Martin! Watch your…"

"Seven! That's the time we leave, at seven! I'll be waiting up for…Oh c'mon Chuckles! Leave the poor girl alone, don't you think she's been through enough as it is?"

Winchester closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying his best to remain cordial with his fellow surgeon. "She's my patient, Pierce; I find that communication is essential. Speaking of which, don't you have patients of your own that need attending? Perhaps it would be a good idea for you to focus on them and leave your large nose out of my business?" With that, Charles placed the chart back on the hook on the cot and moved to his next patient. The doctor Emerson assumed was Pierce stood at her bed for a moment, staring at her with quite a sarcastic smirk before moving on to his own patients.

What on earth was this? Life at the 8035th MASH had been nothing like this. Of course, nearly everyone there was regular army. Emerson was among the few, however, that had not chosen to enter the army on their own. And though it had taken time for her to adjust, the young nurse had learned what was expected of her in a MASH unit. From what she had seen at the 4077th, those same expectations had been thrown out the window. There were doctors cracking jokes every other sentence, nurses flirting with said doctors, and a very strange Corporal running around in a dress in heels. This was not how a MASH unit was supposed to run, not at all. But it worked, quite well, to be honest. But what did Emerson know? She was just observing from her bed. "Maybe I'll fit in here…" She mused, allowing a small smile to tug at her lips. "Though it might be a good idea to stay on Major Winchester's good side…"

"Aw, he isn't so bad, honest. Except that time he drugged my mouse, but I don't think he knew what he was doin'…"

Emerson snapped from her thoughts, glancing up to see a young man, no older than 20 standing beside her cot. Rounded glasses sat on his nose, shielding a pair of kind looking brown eyes. A shy smile was playing at his lips. "How did you….I didn't even…"

"Oh, uh, I could just tell…So you're new here, huh? I think you'll like it. Our C.O. is real nice, he lets me keep my guinea pigs here and everything. Oh, I brought you this. I figured you might be getting tired of just water…" The corporal placed a bottle of Grape Nehi on the table beside her bed.

"That's very thoughtful of you. Thank you…"

"Oh, my name's Walter O'Reilly..but everyone just calls me Radar. I'm the company clerk, which means I run the phone and pass out mail and all that good stuff."

Of course, Emerson knew what a company clerk did, but she wouldn't dare tell Radar that. She had a feeling that this young man was quite often shot down or ignored simply by his attitude. "It's nice to meet you, Radar. You can call me Emerson, if you like. I'm not very fond of this Lieutenant business."

"Oh, well, it's an honor to meet you, Emerson, I…" Radar stopped mid sentence and cupped his hand behind his ear. "Uh-oh…looks like we're in for another round! Incoming choppers everyone!"It was no more than 30 seconds before a voice came over the intercom announcing the arrival of two choppers and ordering all first shifts to the triage to receive the wounded. Emerson watched as nearly all the nurses and the two doctors rushed out of the ward.

"No, Major Winchester," She murmured, remembering her conversation with the man a few moments earlier. "I will never say that I'm grateful to be in this hell…"


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Thank you so much to my wonderful reviewers and followers! I'm glad you guys are enjoying this story!

One thing I forgot to do in the last chapter, the song Hawkeye was singing is called Sentimental Journey, originally sang by Dorris Day. I do not own the song, nor do I own MASH. I only own Emerson Martin and any original characters that may show up in the story!

I hope you all enjoy chapter 8!

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"Well, now, it seems you've settled in mighty well, Lieutenant. Though, I expect you'll be much happier once you're on your feet again."

Emerson nodded at her Commanding Officer, smiling slightly. "Yes, Sir. But this wheelchair works just fine for the time being. When may I move into the nurse's tent?"

"The nurse's tent? You can't move in there yet, not with that leg of yours! I've ordered Klinger to get the VIP tent ready for you to move into for a few weeks."

"Sir, I don't think that will be necessary, I'm sure I can manage in the…"

"Horse Hockey! Pardon my French…The best place for you is the VIP tent, though. I'll have someone help you over there as soon as possible. Now, as for work…Well, I know there isn't much you can do in the O.R. yet, but I bet you could help out in Post Op here and there, if only to keep the morale up. I think you'll do just fine here, Lieutenant."

"Thank you, Colonel." Emerson replied , watching as the older man excused himself and walked through the double doors of the ward. For once, she observed that Post Op was calm. There were only two patients in there other than herself, and they would be sent to Tokyo within the next couple of days. The calm atmosphere was unusual, as it had been quite hectic the two weeks that Emerson had been there.

She turned her gaze to the bed across from hers, where the company chaplain sat, reading from his Bible to a young, wounded soldier. The young man listened attentively as Father Mulcahy read from what sounded like the Third chapter of John. She couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt as she remembered the last time she had spoken to him.

"I behaved terribly…" She murmured. " He didn't deserve that, not in the least." The young nurse decided right then and there that she owed him and apology. What she hadn't noticed, though, was while she was lost in her own thought, the priest had made his way over to her and had taken a seat in the edge of her cot.

"H-Hello, Lieutenant. Uh, lovely day out, isn't it?"

Emerson jumped, slightly startled by the sudden voice, however a bright smile spread across her lips. "Hello, Father. Yes, it's quite lovely out, indeed. Well, as lovely as it can get in the middle of a war zone, I suppose. How are you?"

Father Mulcahy was taken back. He certainly hadn't expected Emerson to be in such a good mood. In all honesty, he hadn't expected her to even speak to him, especially after the last time he had tried to talk to her. Though, the thing that struck him the most was her smile. Could this really be the same woman he had spoken to only two weeks ago? The same one who held so much sorrow in her eyes and had made it quite clear she didn't want anything to do with him whatsoever. Honestly, he had been hesitant to speak to her that morning. "Oh, I um, I'm doing quite well, thank you. You seem to be in better spirits today, Lieutenant."

Emerson bit her lip, noticing that he had used her formal title. 'Father, please, call me Emerson. I really can't stand to be called something so…formal. And yes, I'm feeling much better than I was."

Francis smiled as he placed a gently hand on the young woman's shoulder. "That's wonderful to hear… Emerson." He hesitated, wondering if the young woman's cheerful mood would last.

Emerson returned the smile momentarily, but soon allowed it to fade into a frown. 'Father, I'm afraid I owe you an apology…For my actions."

Francis shook his head. "No apologies needed, Emerson, you did nothing wr-…"

The nurse held up her hand, gently silencing the priest. "I did, though. And it was inexcusable. I was, well, an emotional wreck, to put it lightly, and I took out my frustrations on you, which you didn't deserve…Not in the least. I'm very sorry, Father."

Again, the priest shook his head, somewhat taken aback by her sincere apology. "Think nothing of it, my child. You were already forgiven." He smile warmly at the nurse, allowing the smile to grow brighter when her lips turned up into a warm smile of her own. "So, I, uh, I hear you'll be staying with us for a while."

"I will be, indeed. I have been transferred to this unit, it seems. I could have sworn they would have sent me home. But fate had other plans for me, I suppose."

"I like to think that everything happens according to God's plan…He has a purpose for everything that occurs in life, even this terrible war." Mulcahy replied, clutching his Bible in his hands. "Are you religious, Emerson?"

Emerson pondered the question for a moment. Was he trying to offer her a confession? She didn't want to offend him, but she really didn't need or want a confession. "I'm not Catholic, Father, but I do believe in God. When I was growing up, my parents would take me to this small Presbyterian church in town. We didn't miss a single Sunday service." She looked down at her lap rather sheepishly and began to fidget with her hands. "I have to admit, I haven't stepped foot in a church in quite some time."

Mulcahy noticed a slight blush creep over the young woman's cheeks, and he couldn't help but chuckle lightly. The way she was acting almost reminded him of a child being reprimanded for a wrong doing. "You know, one does not have to be in a church for the Lord to hear their prayers." He glanced around the Post Op ward, allowing his mind to wander for a moment. He couldn't help but think of all the pain, suffering, and even death he had seen during his time in Korea. "If he can hear prayers in a place like this, Emerson, He can hear then anywhere."

Emerson nodded. "I suppose you're right, Father. However, I find that my faith has been shaken ever since I was sent here, especially since…that night." Her voice was quiet as she spoke.

"I'm afraid that happens to all of us, Child. And at times, it is hard to trust Him,but…" Father Mulcahy paused, glancing down at his Bible for a moment before he continued. "I know it's been said many times, but the Lord truly does work in mysterious ways. Not a single thing in life happens by chance…There is a purpose for every event that occurs, we just have to be willing to simply trust Him. It's only then that we may see the beauty in every situation."

The young nurse shook her head, trying her best to keep her tears from spilling onto her cheeks. "I'm sorry, Father, but I find it quite difficult to believe there was a reason that my unit…my _friends_ lost their lives in that senseless act of violence. I apologize if I sound harsh; I don't intend to do so in the least, but I find it very hard to see anything beautiful in this place." Emerson's words were not hateful, but instead pained, and though it had been there only moments before, the beautiful smile that had graced her features was once again gone.


	9. Chapter 9

Thank you so much for all the amazing reviews I have received on this story! Each review means very much to me. Also, a big thank you to my silent readers as well. ;)Thanks to my Beta,Carylfan10 for helping me out with this chapter! I hope you guys enjoy!

As always, I do not own MASH or any of it's characters. Emerson Martin and any other oc's are mine, however...

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Emerson glanced around her empty tent, blowing out a quiet sight. She had been in the VIP tent all of fifteen minutes and she was already bored out of her mind. Of course, Radar had been extremely thoughtful in showing her around the camp before helping her get settled in, but that really didn't take all that long. It wasn't as if the camp was that large. Still, it was certainly nice to know where everything was, especially since this was her new home until she got enough points to go home, or the war ended, whichever came first.

Emerson had written letters to her parents, explaining the current situation…well, most of it. She left out the part about her injuries. If she was alright enough to stay in Korea, her parents had no reason to worry. She did explain that her belongings had been destroyed in the shelling, however, in hopes that her mother might send her a few comforts from home. Unfortunately, the young nurse was impatient as could be, a trait she had inherited from her father, or so her mother claimed. Though after three weeks, she should have at least heard back from her mother.

"At least I still have my journal." She spoke aloud, grabbing the small book from her nightstand and flipping to a blank page. Perhaps a bit of writing would help pass the time, or keep her from going completely insane in the silence. After writing for a few moments, Emerson heard a soft knock sounding at the door. She smiled widely, closing her journal. Any visitor would be welcome at the moment. "Come in!"

The door opened and in walked Klinger, pushing what looked like a very large crate. "Mail call, Lieutenant Martin! Looks like someone from home loves you!"

"Mama did get my letter! I wonder what she sent? Oh, please let there be some clothes in there!" Emerson exclaimed as she wheeled herself over to the crate. She watched in anticipation as Klinger pried open the crate with a crowbar.

'Well, whatever it is, it sure is heavy, Emerson!" Klinger wiped the imaginary sweat off of his brow before pulling the lid off the crate and setting it aside. He barely had enough time to turn back around before Emerson began rummaging through the contents of the box.

"Dresses!" She squealed as she pulled dress after dress from the crate. Emerson couldn't hide her excitement if she tried. Though she had asked for some civilian clothes, the young woman hadn't expected the amount of clothing she had received. And from the look on his face, Corporal Kilnger couldn't either.

"Gee, Emerson, did your mother buy out a department store or something? Look at all this stuff! Even I'm envious of this loot!"

Emerson shook her head, chuckling lightly. "No, Klinger. Mama is a seamstress, though I certainly didn't expect this many clothes…" She pulled out a knee length tan dress from the pile and smiled before setting it down gently on her cot. "At least I won't have to be in uniform while off duty, thank God."

"Oh, I wouldn't have minded to lend you some clothes, Emerson, I have plenty to spare." Klinger spotted a bit of emerald green fabric peeking from the bottom on the crate. He carefully pulled it out and unfolded it, studying it for a moment. It looked to be a tea length dress, with sleeves that would reach Emerson's elbow. And though this dress wasn't particularly fancy, not in the least…There was something about it that seemed special. "Would you look at this dress, Em? It looks like it was made just for you! You oughta wear it to the Officer's Club tonight!"

Emerson turned her attention to the dress, her eyes widening as realization hit her. This was the dress her mother had been working on when she was shipped out to Korea. It was supposed to be a birthday gift for the young nurse, but her mother hadn't had time to finish it before she had to leave. Emerson took the dress from Klinger, her eyes misting slightly as she looked at the dress. She carefully ran her fingers over the pearl buttons that lined the back of the garment. "It's even more beautiful than I thought it would be…"

"It's a real looker, that's for sure. So what do ya say? It'd be perfect to wear tonight!"

Emerson raised a brow. "And why on earth would I wear it to the Officer's club tonight? Or any night, for that matter?"

"Didn't anyone tell ya?" Klinger questioned, scrunching his eyebrows together. "Tonight's the Christmas party! It is Christmas Eve after all! You gotta go!"

"Christmas Eve?" Was it Christmas Eve already? Of course, Emerson had known it was December, and she'd known the date, but for some odd reason it hadn't dawned on her that Christmas was already there. Perhaps it had something to do with this being the first Christmas she would spend away from home. "I, well, I suppose I forgot about Christmas, Klinger. I'm sure someone told me about the party, I just can't remember at the moment….Alright, alright, I'll go. But I need some help getting ready first." She glanced down at her cast in frustration. ''I don't suppose trying to get ready on my own would be such a good idea."

A mischievous grin spread across the lips of Maxwell Klinger. "Well, why didn't you say so? I'll be happy to assist you, my dear!"

Emerson's eyes widened. "Oh no! No, no, no! Nice try though…I'll ask one of the nurses to help me, thank you very much!"

The corporal shrugged, sighing in defeat. "What can I say? At least I tried. Oh, well….I'll go see if I can find someone to help you out." With those words, Klinger was off.

Emerson took this moment to finish sorting through the rest of the crate. In a matter of moments, she had each dress, skirt, and blouse she had received gently laid out on her cot. She would figure out how to hang them in the small wardrobe in the corner later. Along with the clothes, her mother had sent some new undergarments, which she had manage to place safely in her footlocker, away from the prying eyes of Maxwell Klinger…She was darn lucky he hadn't spotted them before. She had also received a couple pair of sensible shoes and some much needed toiletries and makeup, both of which she was rather thankful for. "Looks like my mama knew exactly what I needed." She murmured as she placed the letter her mother had enclosed under her pillow for later reading.

Before she knew it, another knock sounded at the young nurses door. "Come in…" She called, fully expecting it to be Klinger again. However, she was wrong. Instead of the Lebanese Corporal, it was Nurse Kellye, who had her arms loaded down with a stuffed duffel bag. A bright smile graced her features as she stepped into the tent and set the duffel bag down. "Hello Emerson. Klinger mentioned you needed some help…And I can see what he meant! How long exactly has it been since you've fixed your hair?" Kellye questioned as she stepped over to Emerson and took a strand of her hair between her fingers.

Emerson was taken aback. "Uh, I brushed it just this morning…"

"Doesn't count, Em. I meant curling,styling, the works! And these nails? Tell me you've painted them recently?"

Emerson blushed In embarrassment. "My former C.O. didn't allow us to…" She replied quietly.

Kellye studied the young nurse for a moment, and you could almost see the cogs turning in her mind. She was definitely plotting something… "Okay, let's get to work. We're going to have to if we're going to make it in time. The party starts in two hours, after all."

"You're not planning anything too extravagant, are you?" Emerson questioned, somewhat worriedly. "I don't want to look ridiculous…"

"Oh, don't worry. I know what I'm doing…But we have a lot to do! Let's get to it!" Kellye exclaimed as she took a brush and started on Emerson's hair.

It nearly took the entire two hours to get Emerson ready, but it paid off. After brushing the tangles from the day out Emerson's hair, Kellye had helped Emerson take a shower, taking great care not to wet her cast. After all, Winchester would have murdered them if he would have had to redo the cast. Kellye then proceeded to curl Emerson's shoulder length hair, which was a nice changed compared to her normal straight as a board style. They took advantage of the makeup Emerson's mother had sent, applying only a small amount to her face, as to not make her look caked over. A nice deep red lipstick completed the look, bringing a warm glow to her otherwise quite pale face. Lastly, Kellye helped Emerson into her new green dress. It fit perfectly, despite the slight weight loss since Emerson's arrival in Korea.

"Miss. Emerson, you don't even look like the same woman! I'll bet you'll knock someone's socks off at the party tonight!"

Emerson scoffed, fidgeting with the hem on her dress. "Hush, you!" She glanced in the mirror, taking in her appearance."You're right though…I don't look the same at all. I would say I look quite a bit healthier than I looked when I first arrived here. Thank you so much for helping me."

Kellye smiled as she messed with her own hair in the mirror. "Don't mention it, Em. It was fun! But now, I think it's time to have some real fun! " She giggled. Kellye checked her appearance once more before wheeling Emerson out of the VIP tent and towards the Officers Club.

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Okay, so no Mulcahy in this chapter. I apologize, however, I promise he does appear in the next chapter! There might even be a bit of Mulcahy/ Emerson fluff! I'll try to have to next chapter up within the next couple of days!

-Amber


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